


Dear Fellow Traveler

by rudimentaryflair



Series: We've Come A Long Way (Home) [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: Character Study, Don't copy to another site, Gen, M/M, Next Update - TBD, Not Beta Read, Post-Best Wishes, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, it starts hella slow but i promise it gets better just stick with me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25806463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudimentaryflair/pseuds/rudimentaryflair
Summary: Three years after his trek around the world, Cilan opens the doors of the Striaton restaurant to find James from Team Rocket on the front step.“Hi,” he says. “I’ve come to challenge your Gym.”Cilan shuts the door in his face.
Relationships: Cabernet | Burgundy & Dent | Cilan, Corn | Cress & Dent | Cilan & Pod | Chili, Dent | Cilan & Iris & Satoshi | Ash Ketchum, Dent | Cilan/Kojirou | James
Series: We've Come A Long Way (Home) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872271
Comments: 11
Kudos: 41





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A few months ago, I got the idea of writing a domestic!verse series between Cilan and James. Obviously, there's pretty much no way they can jump from the canon!verse to that, so I started planning a bridge between the two and well … this is it. 
> 
> To all those who have the brain parasite that makes them ship Cilan/James, I hope a) you find a cure soon and b) you enjoy!

A year and a half after leaving Striaton City, Cilan wakes and knows abruptly that it’s time to go home. 

He gathers his things systematically, packing away his sleeping bag and cooking equipment with short, practiced movements. It’s not like Cilan hasn’t done this every other morning since setting off from home, but it’s the first time he’s done it without the underlying anticipation of going somewhere he’s never been. 

There are very few things that are certain in the universe. In quantum physics, for example, simply observing a phenomenon can cause said phenomenon to change. That is why, in moments like these, Cilan can appreciate the ability to be honest with himself. And the truth is, the end’s been a long time coming. 

His brothers are surprised, but nonetheless glad to see him return; Chili immediately tackles him into a hug in front of a dozen customers and Cress flies out of the kitchen screeching bloody murder at them for causing a scene, and the intense realization of how  _ much  _ Cilan missed them almost knocks him to his knees. He hugs them close, lets Cress fuss over him and doesn’t complain when Chili shouts so loudly it makes him temporarily deaf in one ear. 

He recalls his journey over the next several days for his brothers with the right amount of flair and drama. He tells of encounters with legendary Pokemon, grand acts of heroism and the vanquishing of crime lords and poachers, making new friends and rivals. He carefully does not mention the lonely and complicated little snarl he has carefully tucked into his chest for safekeeping.

“So when do you think you’ll be heading out again?” Cress asks one morning, about a month later. Cilan doesn’t hear him at first, busy scanning through the latest edition of Unova Weekly. 

“What?” Cilan says. His fingers rest above the top headline:  _ Aspiring Dragon Master Becomes Youngest Unova Champion.  _ Then the words catch up to him. “What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere.”

Cress shrugs by the stove where he’s making breakfast. “It’s just that it sounds like you really enjoyed traveling.” His gaze is sharp, almost probing, like Cilan is one of those classic literature books he likes to read and analyze in his spare time. He thinks this is one of those things where Cress is worried he’s like — bored, or something. That he misses roaming aimlessly around the world. 

He could not be farther off. “Honestly,” Cilan sighs, “once is enough. If I never go on a journey again, it’ll be too soon. 

After a short pause, Cress nods and turns back to the stove, and that’s the end of it. 

And if some days, when the restaurant feels too closed off and the Gym too small, his bed too soft and the kitchen air too stale, Cilan finds himself staring out the window towards the horizon for a little longer than he means to — well. He’s only human. It’s natural to want to resist change. 

Three years later, Cilan opens the doors of the Striaton restaurant to find James from Team Rocket on the front step. 

“Hi,” he says. “I’ve come to challenge your Gym.”

In true, change-defying fashion, Cilan shuts the door in his face.


	2. Chapter 2

He flings it back open ten seconds later in mortification, horrified at himself on principle. If the Connoisseur Association could see him now, reacting so crassly, they’d have his head. 

James looks exactly like he did the last time Cilan saw him: shoulder-length periwinkle hair, envy-green eyes, posture in a perpetual slouch. He’s missing the Team Rocket uniform, however, dressed instead in a black t-shirt and khakis, a navy jacket tied around his waist and a rucksack slung over his shoulder. The strangeness of James out of uniform, coupled with the shock of seeing him in the flesh, leaves Cilan completely bewildered.

“What are you doing here?” he demands, aiming for outraged and landing on baffled. 

James raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know, twerp. What do people usually come here for?”

Cilan slants a suspicious look at him, but before he can do something drastic, like call the police or slam the door in James’s face again, James sighs. “I really did come to challenge your Gym,” he says. “Look, I even have a licensed Pokedex.” He pulls said Pokedex out of his jacket pocket and holds it out.

Slowly, Cilan takes it from him. He carefully examines the trainer profile, frowning down at its unique serial number. It didn’t _look_ false — Pokedexes were notoriously difficult to forge or hack — so the only way James could have gotten his hands on one was if he really _did_ sign up for the Unova League. Then again, this was the man who helped hijack the entire railway system in Nimbasa City, so Cilan wouldn’t put it past him. 

But there was no fault to the Pokedex. He had to accept that James was really here as a challenger; he had no proof otherwise. 

_“So,”_ James drawls, drawing out the vowel. “Are you gonna let me in or not?”

At a loss, Cilan silently steps aside. While he mentally juggles the merits and frankly reasonable misgivings of letting a known criminal into his home, James paces around the empty dining room, whistling appreciatively. It’s a Sunday, so the restaurant is closed. Cress and Chili are still in bed; trainers usually didn’t start showing up until after lunch and Cilan, being the only early bird of the family, had the unspoken task of preparing late breakfast and battling any challengers who, in Chili’s words, “enjoy getting up at an ungodly hour”.

For the first time in his life, Cilan wishes that he slept in. 

He closes his eyes and takes a breath. “Okay,” he says, gathering himself, “okay.” He reopens them. “I accept your challenge. But on one condition.”

Across the dining room, the corner of James’s mouth quirks in interest. “And what’s that?”

“No rematches,” Cilan says. “You lose, and you leave and don’t come back.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Cilan knows they’re both remembering the countless victories he had against both Team Rocket members on the road four years ago. It’ll be easy, he thinks. James will refuse his offer and leave, or he’ll agree to the terms and Cilan will beat him and he’ll still leave. Either way, Cilan will never have to see him again. 

“Fine,” James says, after a pause. “But you’re not allowed to withhold the badge from me.”

Cilan scoffs at this. “Trust me, it won’t come to that.” He unclips Pansage’s Pokeball from his belt, feeling the proud, haughty visor from his younger days slam over his features. “Because I’m going to _win.”_

Cilan loses. Badly.

The most surprising thing — aside from the fact that James _beat him_ — is that James doesn’t gloat. 

He celebrates, of course: whoops and dances around and hugs his Growlithe, looking so boyish and cheerful and _different_ from the villainesque James from all those years ago that it leaves Cilan reeling in the bruised and shattered remains of his ego. But he takes the trio badge without any fanfare, even shaking Cilan’s hand as he does. 

The whole time, Cilan keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, keeps thinking, _That’s it?,_ because this is James from _Team Rocket_ he’s dealing with. This is the man who helped awaken the Legendary Pokemon of Milos Island and nearly started the apocalypse. This is the man who — actually, Cilan didn’t have time to list all of his achievements. The point is, it’s _Team Rocket,_ and Team Rocket always has a scheme up their sleeve.

“Hey thanks, twerp!” James calls from the door. Cilan half-heartedly waves from where he’s crouched beside Pansage’s prone form because there’s nothing else to be done. It’s as though he's still stuck on the restaurant threshold, brain scrambling for answers. 

As James breezes out of the Gym, Chili ambles in, sleepy and confused. He freezes immediately, staring at the empty spot where James had been.

“Whoa,” Chili says, eyes wide. “Was that just me, or did that guy look a lot like one of those Dreamyard thieves from a few years ago?”

After Cilan confirms that, _yes,_ that was James from the Dreamyard Incident and _yes,_ it’s the same James from Team Rocket that harassed him, Ash, and Iris for the better part of a year, then repeats the explanation for Cress, who comes running in a few minutes later, they unanimously agree to a) check James’s credentials with the Pokemon Center, b) give Officer Jenny a heads up and c) never speak of this again. Either Cress and Chili are unusually full of good ideas today, or Cilan’s internal breakdown is a lot more obvious than he thinks it is, but whatever it is, Cilan’s grateful for the straightforward approach. 

He finds out which one when it’s his turn to restock the kitchen and his brothers stop him on the way out the door, twin looks of disapproval on their faces. 

“No,” Chili says before Cilan can say anything. “Bro, I love you, but the last time you went to the market this distracted, you came home with twenty-seven baguettes and nothing else. You cannot shop distracted. I know this. You know this. Cress knows this. We all know this.”

“But,” Cilan says and Chili says, “Bro, it’s not happening,” and Cilan knows that any argument where Chili uses the word ‘bro’ more than once and Cress doesn’t stop him is an argument lost, so he drops it. 

Cilan likes to cook when he’s troubled, but seeing as they’re out of ingredients, he does the next best thing: he cleans. It’s repetitive and calming, gives his hands something to do while he works off the nervous energy coiled in his shoulders and thinks. 

The thing is, the one constant of his adventures with Ash and Iris — aside from their impressive appetites and the storage capacity of Iris’s hair — is the neverending shadow of Team Rocket chasing them, and finding every opportunity to carry off their Pokemon or generally make their lives miserable. And of the two times they managed to reach a _détente,_ one required the threat of literally being sucked into the Underworld, and the other ended in betrayal and a city-wide transportation crisis, so Cilan has a hard time believing that James is just in Unova to challenge Gyms and do ordinary, trainer things. 

Cilan doesn’t realize he’s stopped cleaning and until he has his travel bag in one hand and a week’s worth of clothes folded on his bed. In his deliberation, he must have reached an impasse with himself; there was only one course of action left. 

By the time Chili and Cress return from their grocery run, the house is completely spotless, and Cilan is packed. 

“I’m going on another journey,” Cilan announces, apropos nothing. 

His brothers stare at him, arms laden with bags.

“Oh,” says Chili. “Okay then.”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Cilan continues, “but I _strongly_ believe it’s best if one of us accompanies James to the other Gyms, just in case he’s up to something foul. And since I’m already familiar with him and Team Rocket, I thought — ”

“Cilan, he said okay,” Cress interrupts.

“I — ” Cilan frowns at them. “You’re both taking this rather well.”

“Honestly,” Cress says, rolling his eyes, “we’ve known this was coming since you got back from the first one. Now, are you going to help us put away the groceries, or not?”

Similar to last time, his brothers send him off in their own respective ways, which is to say that Cress shoves three days worth of food at him before making him promise not to call before nine in the morning because “some of us need to sleep, Cilan,” and Chili hugs him so hard he thinks he feels two of his ribs crack. 

He decides to check the Pokemon Center first; it’s the first place James would have stopped by after the Gym battle to update his trainer profile and get his Growlithe treated. As a Gym Leader, Cilan owns a large array of potions and revive crystals, so he doesn’t have to visit between challengers. 

Fully recovered from the morning’s battle, Pansage rides atop Cilan’s head, surveying the people in the lobby for a familiar head of purple hair. Remembering the to-do list he and his brothers had established earlier, Cilan approaches Nurse Joy and asks if she has anyone in the system named James. 

“James checked in his Pokemon about an hour ago,” she informs him. “He left to get some food, but I’m sure he’ll return soon to check them out if you’d like to wait.”

“Thank you,” Cilan says, “but I meant the trainer system. Could you pull up his profile?” If nothing shows up, it’ll be undeniable proof that James is up to no good, he reasons. Then, he can just report the information to Officer Jenny and go home.

Unfortunately, that isn’t the case. Cilan watches with a sinking feeling as Nurse Joy pulls up James’s profile on her computer screen, complete with a headshot and the same serial number he’d seen early. 

“He updated his League status before he left,” she explains. “It looks like he’s just won his first badge, at your Gym, no less!” Then, misunderstanding the grim look on Cilan’s face, she says, “Oh … did he not? Is that why you’re here?” 

“No, he did,” Cilan says, barely keeping the disdain from his voice. The loss still smarts. “Thanks for your help, Nurse Joy. I’ll wait for him in the lobby,” and then he goes and settles down on one of the plush couches by the counter.

“Oh my god,” an annoyed voice says, after what could be a minute or an hour later. “Are you following me?”

Cilan looks up to find James staring down at him with his hands on his hips, lip curled in distaste. His Growlithe is sitting back on its haunches beside his feet, tongue lolling out of its mouth; Pansage eyes it warily from Cilan’s lap, no doubt remembering the results of this morning’s battle. 

“Yes, actually,” Cilan replies. It was probably best to get straight to the point. “I’m coming with you.

The irritated look on James’s face is quickly replaced by one of complete confusion. “Run that by me again?”

“You heard me.” Cilan shifts Pansage from his lap to his shoulder, lifting his bag with the other. “Wherever you’re going, I’m going too. Best get used to it.” 

“I thought you said you’d leave me alone if I beat you,” James snaps. 

“Actually,” Cilan says, “I said I’d give you the Trio badge. Not that I’d leave you alone.”

James doesn’t say anything, just stares at him blankly, and then scrubs a hand over his face, as though at a loss for words. 

Cilan almost feels sorry for him. “Look,” he says, matter-of-fact, “I don’t like this any more than you do. But it’s my civic duty to make sure you’re not committing crimes wherever you go, and the only way I can do that is by traveling with you.”

At this, James looks up at him. “Oh,” he says, an unreadable expression crossing his features. “So that’s what this is about.”

“Yes.”

James considers this. “Well,” he says after a long silence, “if I refuse, I don’t suppose you’ll leave it alone, will you?”

“Absolutely not,” Cilan says emphatically. Pansage makes a defiant noise of affirmation atop his head, to seal the point. 

“Hm,” James says. Then, he turns around and leaves, Growlithe trotting by his side.

Cilan splutters in disbelief. Whatever he had been expecting, it hadn’t been to be brushed off so casually. Pansage peers down at him worriedly as he opens and closes his mouth several times at the empty space in front of him, trying to respond to such a blatant turndown and failing miserably. He might as well call the police now, since that was the only option James had left him with. Yes, he’ll head to the station and talk to Officer Jenny — 

_“Twerp,”_ James says impatiently, stalling his train of thought. He’s standing in front of the exit with an expectant look on his face, arms crossed. “You look ridiculous standing there. Come on, we’ve a lot of ground to cover.” 

He disappears out of the lobby. After a beat, Cilan scrambles after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rudimentaryflair on Tumblr!


	3. Chapter 3

They’ve been on the road for about an hour when James says, “This is weird.” 

Ahead, his Growlithe playfully chases after several wild Petilil, batting at the leafy fronds on their heads; Cilan had already returned Pansage to his Pokeball, but James seemed to prefer to keep his Growlithe outside. 

Cilan blinks, caught off guard. “Yes,” he agrees, slowly. “Though I suppose that’s to be expected, given well, everything.”

“Given the fact that one of us is a former career criminal?” James asks wryly.

“Yes, that.” A pause. “Former?”

James shrugs. “I’ve moved onto better things.” 

Cilan nods awkwardly. He really hopes that he’s talking about being a trainer and not foreshadowing some kind of nefarious plot to take over the world. 

“So,” James says casually, interrupting his thoughts, “Nacrene City. What’s it like?”

Not unsuspiciously, Cilan squints at him. The sudden conversationalism is a far cry from the tense and uncomfortable silence from earlier. “It’s … avant-garde,” he hazards, remembering the wideset warehouse buildings and the art graffiti thrown up on the walls. “You haven’t been?” He’d sort of just assumed that James had seen every place he, Iris, and Ash visited, considering how closely Team Rocket followed them. 

“Oh no, I have,” James says flippantly. “I was just too busy with other things to do any sightseeing.” 

As much as Cilan tries not to think about what that means, he finds out exactly what  _ things  _ James is referring to when they arrive at the Nacrene Museum the next day. Lenora, like last time, is out, so her husband takes them on a tour around the building, tactfully skipping the Cofagrigus exhibit in lieu of showing them some of the newer displays. 

After one of said displays — a white platform with a meteorite suspended over it — James pulls Cilan aside and says, low enough not to be heard Hawes, “That’s a fake.”

“What?” Cilan says. “No it’s not. Some of the top astronomists in Unova verified it.”

“Well, that was before Jessie and I stole the real one and switched it out with a decoy.” James motions at the display pointedly. 

Cilan stares at him, slowly being submerged in cold horror. “You didn’t,” he says, and immediately regrets it when James looks even more sheepish.  _ “Oh my _ — then where’s the original?!”

“I have no idea,” James admits. “Never saw it again after handing it off to headquarters.”

Cilan opens and closes his mouth several times, various choice words and assorted phrases trying to fight their way out. Eventually, he settles on, “We have to tell Hawes.”

“Yeah,” James agrees. 

Ahead of them, Hawes is still in the middle of some rambling explanation regarding the societal framework of the ancient Draconid people. His only audience is James’s Growlithe, which is seated in front of him, panting happily. “Okay,” Cilan says, taking a few breaths. “Okay, I’m just going to — wait, why are you even telling me this?”

James doesn’t say anything, just gives him a look that distinctly reminds him of the one Cress gave Chili the time he asked if they could halve the baking time of a cake by doubling the oven temperature. 

“Right,” Cilan says, “silly question,” and then he goes to talk to Hawes. 

In the end, Cilan winds up suggesting Hawes get the meteorite retested, alluding to some vague and made up rumors about museum thieves switching out priceless artifacts for worthless replicas. He doesn’t mention James or Team Rocket; after all, James had gone out of his way to tell Cilan about the meteorite, and it wouldn't do to repay him by selling him out.

Still, the whole ordeal leaves him feeling a little slimy, so he and James end up taking themselves off Hawes’s hands prematurely and getting lunch early at Cafe Warehouse. Cilan buys himself extra dessert as a sort of moral palate cleanser, and by the time they arrive back at the Museum, he’s feeling significantly better.

Lenora greets him with a bruising hug that leaves him sore around the shoulders, but in a good way. “It’s been a while, kid,” she tells him before she lets go. “Get possessed by any stray Yamask lately?”

“Fortunately, no,” Cilan replies, feeling his face heat up at the memory. 

“I’m James,” James says. His muted expression of delight promises Cilan many pestering questions later. “I’m here to challenge your Gym.”

Lenora gives him a quick once-over, before her eyes settle on his Growlithe, which is sitting beside James’s feet, as per usual. “Oh wow! You don’t see these every day in Unova.” She kneels down to pet Growlithe, which immediately drops to the ground and rolls over, exposing its belly. 

“His name is Growlie,” James tells her, amused. 

“Hi Growlie,” Lenora croons. “Aw, he’s adorable.” Then, more seriously, “I look forward to seeing him in battle.” She straightens and beckons them into the museum.

The library looks exactly like it did four years ago: archives spanning from wall to wall, open foam carriers overflowing with shiny new artifacts, delicate-looking sheets of parchment flooding the tabletops. It’s so painfully familiar that, just for a moment, it’s like Cilan can see the younger versions of Ash, Iris, and himself standing there, sketchily superimposed over the present. He blinks, and they disappear.

Lenora pulls him aside. “You didn’t tell him anything, did you?” she asks, tilting her head in James’s direction. James, who is examining the wayward artifacts under Hawes’s careful supervision, doesn’t notice. 

“Of course not.” Truth be told, Cilan’s been looking forward to this. It’ll be interesting to see how James fares under Lenora’s testing. 

Satisfied with his answer, Lenora nods, then snaps her fingers to get James’s attention; Growlie bounds over to them immediately, James, with a little more hesitation. 

“James,” Lenora says, lip curled in the barest hint of a smirk, “how would you like to study up on the Unova region before challenging me?”

James blinks. “Thanks, but I’m just here for our battle.”

“Of course you are,” Lenora says. “That’s why I brought you here first. Knowledge can be very useful in a Gym battle.” She walks over to the third bookshelf from the back, knuckles knocking on the spine of a thick, blue book. “I recommend starting with this one.”

There’s a pause. James looks at Lenora, then Hawes, then Cilan, then back at Lenora. “I take it that wasn’t an offer.”

Lenora’s smirk widens. “Having second thoughts, James?”

After a beat, James replies, “Of course not. I came here for a Gym battle, I’ll get a Gym battle.” He approaches the book Lenora had singled out, considering. Cilan holds his breath; if James takes Lenora’s advice and goes straight for it like Ash had, he’ll be able to have his battle immediately. 

Another long moment passes. Then, James sniffs and skips right over the book, moving to a different shelf and pulling several random volumes off the top ledge. 

Lenora raises an eyebrow. Hawes returns the look with no small amount of fond exasperation. 

“Twerp,” James calls from another aisle, “come help me bring these back to the table.”

Cilan sighs. They were going to be here for a while. 

James, unlike Ash, turns out to be quite invested in strategy. 

He spends the first two hours alternating between studying a large, battered-looking method book, and doodling possible battle tactics in a small leather notebook. Once in a while, he gets up to stretch his legs by pacing the aisles, muttering to himself until his face lights up and he dives back to the notebook.

When Cilan isn’t fetching books off the shelves or the occasional water, he’s playing with Pansage, texting his brothers updates on the Silph phone Cress had slipped into his bag, or browsing the archives. There’s nothing else to do — he’d offered his connoisseur expertise earlier, but James shot him down immediately.

“No offense, twerp,” he said, “but I don’t need a glorified dilettante in a bowtie to tell me what my relationship with my Pokemon is like,” and deeply affronted, Cilan had ducked into one of the aisles to collect himself so he didn’t strangle him. Because he was a _gentleman._

By the end of hour two, Cilan is half-convinced that they will never leave this room. James hasn’t even  _ looked  _ back at the blue book, and there’s hardly any table left for him to cover with more battle guides. Pansage has returned to his Pokeball, tired of their surroundings, and Cilan kind of wishes he could do the same.

From the glances he’s stolen at James’s notebook, he knows James already has a full team of Pokemon aside from Growlie. Using his Pokedex and Chili’s arsenal of Pokemon Geographic fun facts, Cilan has determined these Pokemon to be Carnivine, Cacnea, Weezing, Mime Jr, and Chimecho. He’s most interested in the last two; they’re incredibly rare, and he has yet to see one up close. 

At hour three, Cilan gets up from where he’d been sitting cross-legged on the floor by Growlie, absentmindedly petting him, and meanders over to where James is studying his notebook.

“You know, it might help to have a second pair of eyes,” he suggests.

James sighs, long-suffering. “Fine,” he says. “S’not like I’m getting anywhere, anyway.” He looks tired — hair sticking up where he’s been pulling at it. 

Cilan takes his notebook, settling in the chair across from him. His eyebrows rise at how many pages are filled with James’s messy scrawl. “Surely you’re not planning on using  _ all  _ of this.”

“Of course not,” James snaps. Cilan narrows his eyes, and he deflates slightly. “Look — the original plan was just to use my Cacnea and Growlie. Cacnea knows Drain Punch, which is super effective against Normal-types, and since it’s a Grass-type, I figured having a Fire-type battle alongside it would balance out its weaknesses.” He glares at Cilan, like  _ Is that all? _

“That’s … actually not a bad strategy,” Cilan says slowly. He looks down at the mass of scribbles in his hands. “What’s all this, then?”

James rolls his eyes. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not in the Gym yet. Which means  _ this  _ isn’t what Lenora’s looking for.” He glances meaningfully at the sea of books in front of him. “But I don’t know what I’m doing  _ wrong.” _

Feeling exasperated, Cilan says, “Why not just take the book Lenora suggested?” 

At this, James shoots him a look that very plainly says,  _ You’re an idiot.  _ As far as Cilan’s concerned, it’s unwarranted. “That book is no good.”

_ “Why?” _

“Because she’s trying to win,” James snaps. “Why would she give me something that would help me beat her? You don’t aid and abet the enemy.”

“Lenora’s not the  _ enemy,”  _ Cilan splutters.

James makes a face. “Fine, opponent, whatever. Look twerp,” he says, “you’re too trusting. This is obviously a test, and that — ” he points at the blue book “ — is obviously a trick. Nobody does anything out of the goodness of their heart. There’s always a reason.”

For a long moment, Cilan just stares at him, unsure of how to reply. Because the thing is, he’d set off from Striaton City with James fully prepared to spend the foreseeable future stranded in the space between mild irritation and full-blown outrage, as one does when they travel with someone who used to be the bane of their existence, and while that had been the case at the very beginning, now barely a day into their journey, Cilan just feels kind of bad for him. 

“Okay,” he says finally. “Be that as it may, think about this: if you’re always checking the corners for traps, you’ll never notice what’s right in front of you.” Standing, he pats James’s shoulder, handing him back his notebook. “Just some food for thought.”

“Have you tried my suggestion yet?” Lenora asks from the door a few hours later. 

Blearily, Cilan blinks up at her and Hawes from where he’d fallen asleep against the wall. Growlie is a soft and warm mass beside him, pressed alongside his thigh. There’s an expensive-looking, gold-trimmed textbook on his lap that he vaguely remembers reading. 

Still at the table, James glares at his notebook, then at the strategy guides sprawled around him, and then at Lenora. Finally, he glares at Cilan, who gets off the ground in a series of creaking movements. “Fine,” he says. “Let’s see what’s so great about this book.” 

In three long strides, he crosses the library and yanks the book back so hard that it nearly wrenches his shoulder out of its socket when it doesn’t leave the shelf. The sound of gears whirring fills the room as the bookcase rises to reveal a hidden staircase. 

Cilan does his level best not to laugh at the pinched expression on James’s face. Lenora and Hawes, on the other hand, have no such qualms and guffaw openly.

“He’s an interesting one,” Hawes says.

“He is,” Lenora agrees. Then, to James, “You’re so used to deceiving and being deceived that someone being direct completely throws you off.” She grins. “You’re a tricky battler.”

“Is that so,” James says flatly. “And what are you?”

“We’re about to find out, aren’t we?” Lenora says, winking before she disappears down the stairs with Hawes. 

Immediately, James rounds on Cilan. “You knew about this,” he accuses.

Cilan stifles a yawn, stretching his arms. “I did.”

“And you didn’t tell me.”

“I tried to,” Cilan says, “but as I recall, you told me that book was ‘no good’.”

James growls something indecipherable, and then storms after Lenora, Growlie at his heels. Laughing quietly, Cilan follows.

The moment it’s released, Cacnea flings itself at James’s face with terrifying velocity and accuracy, connecting with a loud thud and knocking James flat on his back.

On the other side of the Gym, Lenora makes a startled noise. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” Cilan watches, alarmed, as James gets off the ground, holding Cacnea away from his head with both hands. “This happens all the time,” he says reassuringly. 

Cilan does not feel reassured. “Did it just  _ attack  _ you?” he yelps. 

James sighs fondly, which actually horrifies Cilan a little. “No,” he says. “That was a hug.”

“To the  _ face?”  _

“Cacnea is very affectionate,” James says, explaining absolutely nothing. The Pokemon in question leaps from his arms and onto the ground with a harsh warbling sound, making Cilan jump backward in fright. 

“I’m going to stand by Hawes,” he says quickly, skittering away to the judge’s box to watch the match. 

To face James’s Cacnea and Growlie, Lenora calls on her Braviary and Stoutland. Unlike her battle with Ash all those years ago, she doesn’t rely on any sly maneuvers, instead ordering her Pokemon to attack head-on, one move following another in quick succession. James deflects these moves with no small amount of difficulty, and it’s obvious that he’s struggling under the assault. Watching him, Cilan finds a new appreciation for Lenora’s book test: it lets her know her challengers’ shortcomings, so she can help them overcome their weaknesses. 

The battle eventually comes down to Braviary and Cacnea. The latter ends the match with a powerful Drain Punch that shakes the entire gym so violently that any trace of fatigue Cilan managed to retain from his earlier nap promptly dissipates. 

The ground has barely stopped juddering when Cacnea picks itself off Braviary and springs at James’s head again. James catches it before it can make contact and squeezes it against his chest, unbothered by the spikes. He spins them both around like a ballerina, whooping. Much like when James had beat him at the Striaton Gym, Cilan finds himself reeling at how juvenile he is. It’s hard to match up the James in front of him to the one four years ago, and not for the first time, he wonders just how much they've changed. 

“You’re an impressive battler,” Lenora says when she returns her fainted Pokemon. James beams when she presses the Basic badge into his hand. “I look forward to seeing you compete in the League.”

“Thank you,” James replies, surprisingly sincere. When they leave the Gym, he has an extra skip in his step.

Ever since they were kids, Cilan and Chili had a tradition of sequestering themselves in the living room every other Saturday for movie night, much to the chagrin of Cress, who would rather sit quietly with a good novel. And while Chili was always enamored by the heroes — from the flashy knight-in-shining-armor types to the everyday protagonists — Cilan was utterly fascinated by the antagonists and anti-heroes, drawn in by their complex motivations and backstories; it was why he had so much fun playing the villain in Legend of the Pokemon Knight, exploring the gray mindset of the character. 

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get a good read on James. It had been easier four years ago, but then again, everything had been easier back then. He had been a criminal, a thief with a standard motivation: steal Pokemon to get rich and powerful. But now, Cilan could sense that he’d fallen into more murky and complicated motives, ones that set him a little on edge. 

He never did like not knowing things. Still, it seemed that he would just have to wait and see what they were. 

As they depart from Nacrene City, James clears his throat, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“So twerp,” he says, an undercurrent of gleefulness to his voice that makes Cilan instantly suspicious. “About that Yamask story — ”

“To Castelia City!” Cilan yelps, taking off down the path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this chapter yesterday, but accidentally fell asleep before I could haha. Anyways, I hope you had some fun reading this; I know I got kind of nostalgic for the BW trio ;-;
> 
> I'm rudimentaryflair on Tumblr!


	4. Chapter 4

They’ve been traveling by railway since leaving Striaton City, and while that greatly cut down their travel time, it didn’t allow for a lot of sightseeing. Cilan had prodded at the topic several times — growing tired of eating stale station food and watching the landscape whip past the windows — and after some convincing, James reluctantly agreed to walk to Castelia City instead of taking the next shuttle. Cilan had cheerfully punched their destination into his PokeNav, looking forward to traveling outdoors again. 

They run into their first complication about halfway through Pinwheel Forest. He hears it before he sees it, a rustling in the trees so loud and violent that it makes Growlie jump about a foot into the air.

“Good heavens,” James exclaims, reminding Cilan of one of those disagreeable old women who never tipped at the restaurant. “What was _that?”_

The tops of the trees shake again, releasing a flock of startled Pidove. Cilan frowns and steps off the path to investigate, ignoring James calling after him. It wouldn't do to disregard the noise and continue on their way; it could be someone, or something in trouble.

It turns out to be the latter. He spots a patch of pink tangled in the branches of a large willow, not far from where they stopped. It’s too high up to identify by sight, so he takes out his Pokedex. The scanner slides open.

_"Hoppip, the Cottonweed Pokemon. Hoppip drifts on winds. It is said that when Hoppip gather in fields and mountains, spring is on the way.”_

James stomps through the undergrowth behind him. “Don’t run off like that,” he grumbles. Then, “Hoppip, huh? Thought those were only in Kanto and Johto.”

Cilan pockets his Pokedex. “They’re not as common here,” he explains, “but we have them.” You could find them in grasslands, or the White Forest. He squints up at the Hoppip; Pinwheel was neither of those. It must have gotten blown away by the wind. 

“So,” James drawls, “do you want to climb up there? Or should I?”

Cilan takes a minute to dredge up the tree scaling lessons Iris gave him a few years ago, then decides it’s probably better not to do that. He unclips a Pokeball from his belt. “Pansage, come on out!”

He explains the situation to Pansage, who listens intently before leaping to his feet and clambering up the tree to the trapped Hoppip. After some shaking and untangling, and a thunderous crack of a tree branch being snapped, Pansage falls and lands neatly on its feet while Hoppip floats slowly down to the forest floor.

The Pokemon bears a strong resemblance to a plant bulb; its ovoid pink body reminds Cilan of a Pecha berry, with four small buds sticking out on the bottom as its feet. The jagged leaves sprouting from the top of its head turn slowly in the breeze as it surveys them boredly. It’s smaller than usual — perhaps newly hatched — and up close, Cilan can see that it has two large, triangular ears flanking its leaves, giving it a somewhat feline appearance, like a Meowth or a Purrloin. Despite this, he manages to keep his palm steady as he stoops down to Hoppip’s height and extends a hand in greeting.

“Hey there, little guy ― “

The Hoppip must not be in the mood for introductions, because it dodges his outstretched hand and jumps forwards, tiny feet slamming into his face as it uses his head as a springboard. Cilan topples over. The Hoppip sails through the air and lands a little ways away. From his spot on the ground, Cilan can see its bright yellow eyes glaring at him.

There’s a stunned silence, quickly broken by James, who gives a loud snort of laughter. Pansage chatters angrily at Hoppip, which replies with a haughty chirrup. If Cilan weren't still blinking stars from his eyes, he'd probably laugh at the display.

“Okay buddy,” he hears James say. “Let’s — ” There’s a loud thud, and then James shouts, “Oh you little — I am going to make _mulch_ out of you! Growlie, use Flamethrower!”

“Do _not,”_ Cilan says loudly from the ground. “Don’t scare it.”

“That ungrateful weed just tackled me!” 

Cilan sits up just in time to see James make a grab for the Hoppip, which dodges him easily, leaping past his arms and springing off the back of his head. The look on James’s face is priceless, and this time, Cilan does burst out laughing. The smug expression on Hoppip’s face just makes him laugh harder. He’s still chuckling when it disappears into the foliage.

“You done?” James snaps, hands on his hips. 

Cilan nods, trying to hold back a grin. He doesn’t do a very good job. James shoots him a miffed look and he has to bite down on his cheek.

“We need to go find it,” he says.

“Find it?” James repeats in disbelief. _“Why?”_

Cilan picks himself off the ground, brushing the leaves from his pants. “Hoppip aren’t native to Pinwheel forest,” he explains. “It’s probably lost. We should help it.”

“But it’s such a _brat.”_

“It’s a child. Children act out.”

“Fine, do-gooder,” James grumbles. “Lead the way.”

It doesn’t take long to track Hoppip down, with Growlie’s nose. Upon spotting them, it makes to bound away, but mid-jump, a breeze sweeps it up in the air and straight into the tangle of vines of an Oran berry tree. If it had been an adult, the wind wouldn’t have been such an issue, but its small body made it so light that it didn’t stand a chance against even the slightest breeze.

“I see this is a common problem for you,” Cilan comments amusedly, looking up at the Hoppip suspended above them. It narrows its eyes at him in childish disdain.

“Let’s just get this over with,” James says. “Tell your monkey to untangle it so we can get out of here.”

Pansage uses the height advantage of being on Cilan’s shoulder to tug vengefully on James’s ear, and before the outraged squawk is halfway out of his mouth, Pansage is in the tree beside Hoppip. Cilan supposes it’s to be expected that they don’t get along, considering James’s history of attempting to steal him from Cilan. 

What’s _not_ expected is the vicious beam of pink light that explodes from the tree, knocking Pansage clear out of the branches and into Cilan’s chest. 

One glance at Pansage’s dazed face is all he needs to figure out what just happened. “That was Confusion!”

“This is why I hate kids,” James mutters. Then, to Cilan, “None of my Pokemon can climb. What about you?”

“I’ll climb,” Cilan says, returning Pansage. Time to put Iris’s teachings into practice, he thinks despairingly. “You stay down here and make sure nothing happens.”

“I’m not catching you if you fall.”

He takes significantly longer to scale the tree than Pansage did, but he makes it to Hoppip nonetheless. 

“Hello again,” Cilan says. Hoppip makes a series of alarmed chirping noises, and he quickly raises one hand in a sign of peace, the other gripping white-knuckled against the tree. “I’m here to help you! Just — stay still.” He carefully unwraps it from the vines and coaxes it under his arm, trying not to look down. He can feel the Pokemon trembling slightly through his shirt, and he feels a pang of sympathy for it. Poor thing was probably afraid of heights. 

Except, that couldn’t be right. Hoppip were known for drifting high in the sky, and this particular Hoppip had been completely fine after being fished out of the first tree by Pansage, aside from the cheekiness. 

Cilan suddenly realizes Hoppip eyes aren’t on him; rather, they're focused on something behind him. With a sinking feeling of comprehension, he follows Hoppip’s terrified gaze and comes face to face with the largest Slaking he has ever seen in his life. 

He freezes. The Slaking grunts and shakes off the Confusion from earlier slowly, almost sluggishly, as though moving through molasses. Cilan knows better than to be fooled by the laziness of its movements: Slaking were terrifyingly powerful when they wanted to be, and their perceived laziness was only the result of conserving massive amounts of energy. 

“What’s taking so long?” James calls from below, oblivious. “Don’t tell me you got stuck!”

“Um,” says Cilan. His mind races. If he moves quickly enough to the side, he’ll be able to obscure himself from the Slaking using the very same trunk that had hidden it from view when he climbed up into the tree. Unprovoked, it didn’t pose much of a danger anyway; it was probably just lounging in the tree to snack on the abundance of Oran berries. Yes, that was it. Everything would be just fine if he kept his head and calmly climbed back down. 

The Slaking blinks away the last of Hoppip’s Confusion, and several things happen.

The branch Cilan is hanging onto snaps. He loses his footing and flails, catching himself on several vines and slingshotting himself back against the tree. This takes down the majority of the berries in Slaking’s reach. Slaking makes an aborted grab for said berries before they hit the forest floor, and Hoppip mistakes the movement for an attack, unleashing another round of Confusion. The Confusion is sloppy and untrained; instead of being concentrated in one area, it explodes outwards and hits everything in a five-foot radius. Including Cilan. 

He manages to press himself to the tree before his legs stop working, and it’s an awkward slide down the trunk to the ground. He barely keeps his grip on Hoppip.

“What the — twerp! Are you okay?!” James rushes over to his side.

Or at least, Cilan thinks that’s what happens. It’s a little hard to tell with the way his vision is swimming. His whole body feels like it’s been submerged in water, and every time he tries to stand, the world moves, like the gravity of the planet is changing every second. He barely registers when James lays him out on the sky (ground?) and slaps his face.

“Hey! Twerp, what happened?” His voice reminds Cilan of a phone call with bad service. 

Cilan tries to sit up again. “It’s going after Hoppip,” he slurs.

“What’s after — ” Something lands forcefully several meters away, shaking the ground. “Oh _jeez.”_

Cilan manages to stand up, gripping the tree and James for support. Hoppip’s Confusion may have been enough to incapacitate him, but it would barely stun the Slaking, what with how strong it was. He fumbles for his Pokeballs and they slip from his fingers and go scattering like runaway marbles. “James, help me get — ”

“Oh no, you don’t,” James snaps. “You can’t even walk straight. I’ll protect the stupid plant.” And then he’s gone. 

Cilan takes several deep breaths through his nose and tries to pull himself together. After what feels like hours, but could only be a couple of minutes, his vision stops looking like a technicolor smear. He sees a blur of orange smash into a large, hulking figure that could only be Slaking. 

“Use Flame Wheel again!” James shouts. He’s clutching Hoppip against his chest, darting away from Slaking’s strikes while calling out commands. The blows leave craters in the ground that Cilan can feel through his feet. 

He’s just finished gathering his Pokeballs from the ground and is about to join the fight when he hears a loud yelp. Cilan looks up in time to see Growlie get sent flying by a powerful Hammer Arm.

“GROWLIE,” James yells. His eyes are on where the Pokemon disappeared into the undergrowth, and distracted, he doesn’t notice Slaking aiming a Hidden Power at him and Hoppip.

There isn’t enough time to call on one of his other Pokemon, so Cilan just moves. Somehow, he manages to propel himself on his still wobbly legs and slam James and Hoppip away from the attack. 

Next thing he knows, Cilan is flat on the ground staring up at the trees, his whole body throbbing like a giant bruise. 

“Ow,” he announces, because it’s worth saying. His voice is raspy.

“Oh good, you’re alive,” James says from beside him. “Clearly the Pikachu twerp’s suicidal tendencies rubbed off you. Can you stand?”

Cilan doesn’t think he can do anything except sleep for ten years. Now that the initial adrenaline has worn off, it’s taking all of his effort to keep his brain online. At least the Confusion has gone away, beaten back by the pain of being pummeled by Hidden Power. “Where’s Growlie?”

“Got off a good Wild Charge before he fainted. If we’re lucky, that’ll paralyze it. And before you ask — ” James drops Hoppip into Cilan’s lap, “ — you’re welcome.”

“Oh,” Cilan says, surprised. He wants to say more, but a gruff roar behind them makes them jump. 

“Figures,” James grumbles. He pulls another Pokeball from his belt, and Cilan does the same. 

Before they can do anything, a voice cuts through the air: “Leavanny, use Hyper Beam!” 

The forest lights up briefly, and then a loud explosion rocks the clearing. A wave of dust covers them both. There’s the telltale thundering of Slaking lumbering away, and Cilan blinks past his headache just in time to two thin figures — a Pokemon and a person — drop from the sky.

“Seems we came across you two at the right time,” the person says. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” A pause. Then, “Cilan, is that you?”

“Hi Burgh,” Cilan says, and then passes out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to go for an episodic feel in these chapters. How am I doing? (I had no idea Slaking spawned in Unova, let alone Pinwheel Forest until I did the research for this chapter. But it made for a wonderful plot device, so it's all good haha.) 
> 
> Unfortunately, I'll be taking a short hiatus and won't be posting next weekend, because I'll be out of town taking tests the entire weekend (SATs & ACTs are rough, yo). However, I'll be back with a new chapter on September 6th, so keep your eyes peeled for that! Also, a big thank you to those who commented on the last few chapters - you've been fueling my writing for the past week and a half, and I really appreciate it! I have to admit, it feels good to know I'm not the only one who ships these two :)
> 
> I'm rudimentaryflair on Tumblr!
> 
> EDIT [09/05/20]: Unfortunately, due to personal reasons, I'll be taking a longer hiatus than planned. Next update TBD


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